


Orange You Glad?

by astral-klance (killjoycatlady)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alcohol, Attempt at Humor, Banter, Caretaking, College, Drunkenness, Fluff and Humor, Gen, M/M, Mentions of vomit (nothing graphic it's just mentioned a few times), Primary Paladins, but platonic mostly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2017-06-02
Packaged: 2018-11-07 22:08:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11068113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killjoycatlady/pseuds/astral-klance
Summary: "He's really drunk, though," Hunk continued observantly. "When did he drink so much?""I've no clue," Keith said.-----Lance gets drunk and Keith and Hunk take care of him.





	Orange You Glad?

**Author's Note:**

> I got this idea last night and took approximately 24 hours to write it, so.
> 
> i'm really sorry for the punny title my friend recommended it to me and i was like "it's so bad i can't not use it".

Keith was not a fan of college parties.

 

Granted, this wasn't a stereotypical college party with drugs and beer in red cups. It was smaller, simpler, hosted by Allura, who was very nice and smart and a somewhat friend of Keith's.

 

That didn't mean he came willingly. He was supposed to be studying for an important Literature test (God knew that Keith was terrible at poetry) but nope, Lance had to come to his house and drag him out against his will. Lance, who was currently doing something loosely resembling "dancing", with one of Allura's girl friends. Keith didn't know when or why Lance got so tipsy, but he wouldn't be the one to stop Lance from having a good time.

 

Keith sighed and huddled closer to the wall, hugging his body with his arms. Allura's parties were never too large- just fifty or sixty people, usually- but they made Keith's skin crawl with nerves, anyway. He wasn't a social person. He probably wouldn't _go_ to any social outing if it weren't for Lance.

 

Lance tripped over his own feet and almost spilled orange juice over the girl's feet.

 

Keith snickered, and as if by instinct, Lance glanced at him and made a face.

 

Keith hadn't known Lance for too long, but he knew that Lance was an exceptionally good dancer, especially for someone who went to college in Chicago (Lance said that "that's what happens when you're a Miami-raised Cuban, darling."). Keith wondered how just how drunk Lance was right now.

 

"Hey," said a voice, making Keith jump.

 

"Sorry," Hunk apologized, standing next to Keith. "Didn't mean to scare you. How're you feeling?"

 

"Me?" Keith asked, "I'm fine?"

 

His tentative tone didn't seem to satisfy Hunk.

 

"You sure?" Hunk asked. "'Cuz we can leave if you want."

 

"I'm good," Keith reassured him, almost entirely lying. "You go have fun." His eye caught Lance with his arms raised high, orange juice flimsily held in his hand. "He seems to be enjoying."

 

"He's Lance." Hunk sounded amused. "He's always enjoying."

 

Keith hummed in agreement. Lance did always tried to make the best of a situation, and he always was in his element at parties like this.

 

"He's really drunk, though," Hunk continued observantly. "When did he drink so much?"

 

"I've no clue," Keith said.

 

Hunk sighed. "Do you think we should stop him from drinking more?"

 

"He's headed back towards the drink table," Keith pointed out.

 

Hunk got off the wall to go follow Lance, and, because he had nothing better to do, Keith went after him. He almost lost Hunk a few times in the crowd, and sped up his stroll as to not get left behind.

 

Hunk caught Lance just in time at the drink table, and put a large hand on Lance's chest to stop him. "What are you drinking, dude?" Hunk asked, "You're wasted."

 

"Nah," Lance drawled, clumsily running a hand throw his own short hair. "I'm _finnee_ , Hunk. Not drunk at all." He puffed out his chest and held his arms open, and swayed a little.

 

"Yeah," Hunk said skeptically, "What have you been drinking?"

 

"Orange juice!" Lance answered, waving towards a jug of bright juice. "It's great, Hunk, _tryy_ it."

 

"I think Allura said that the orange juice has vodka in it," Hunk said, looking at Keith.

 

"Keith! You're here!" Lance said happily, smiling widely.

 

"I thought that was the punch," Keith said, frowning. "How much of the orange juice did you drink, Lance?"

 

"Ehhh." Lance shrugged. "Eight, nine glasses?"

 

"Jesus," Keith said, "Who the fuck can drink so much juice?"

 

"He did always like orange juice," Hunk remarked. "Lance, you can't have any more."

 

Lance pouted, and if he weren't drunk off his ass, Keith would have felt sympathy for him. "Can I dance, at least?" Lance pleaded.

 

Hunk rolled his eyes. "Yeah," Hunk said.

 

Lance whooped. He took a few steps towards the mass of dancing bodies, and then stumbled, almost falling down to the floor. Luckily, Keith was nearby, and reached out of catch him and support Lance with his body. He grunted underneath Lance's weight.

 

"Hey, Keith," Lance mumbled, "Why're you here? I thought you were studying?"

 

"You brought me here, you massive idiot." Keith glanced at Hunk, who was watching the scene with amusement. "We should take him home. I don't trust him when he's drunk."

 

"You and me both," Hunk said, "I'll let Allura know. Can you take him to my car?" Without waiting for an answer, Hunk tossed Keith his keys, leaving him in search of Allura.

 

Keith untangled himself from Lance, keeping a hand tightly gripped to Lance's arm to steer him outside.

 

"Where're we goin'?" Lance asked, stumbling as Keith led him out of the threshold of the house.

 

"Home, Lance," Keith said, "Well, we're actually going to Hunk's car."

 

"Hunk's m'buddy." Lance slurred over his words.

 

Keith gritted his teeth and led Lance down the small steps leading to the driveway. There was an imminent danger of Lance falling and taking Keith down with him. Keith hated to admit it, but Lance was heavier than him, and therefore fully capable of knocking him down. He hauled a mumbling Lance into the parking lot and searched for the car that he was dropped off in.

 

He spotted it parked where it was left, by the sidewalk. At first sight, Hunk's car was a piece of junk. It was clunky and old, and looked like a hazard to ride in. Keith said so, the first time he saw it. But then he found out that Hunk was something of an engineering genius (in his mind, anyways) and was able to fix up a cheap, broken down car, almost entirely by himself.

 

Keith unlocked the back door and stared pointedly at Lance. "Get in."

 

" _Keittthhh_ ," Lance whined, swaying again. He braced himself against the car's side, eyes tight.

 

"Please don't tell me that you're going to throw up," Keith told him, "I'm not going to help you if you do."

 

"Hunk'll help me," Lance declared.

 

"Hunk will do what, now?" Hunk's voice asked, and made Keith junk for the second time. "What's going on?"

 

"He's not going to, like, throw up, right?" Keith asked.

 

Hunk peered at Lance's face. "I hope not. Lance, I love ya, but if you hurl in my car, I probably can't be friends with you."

 

Lance, go Keith's surprise, looked like he was going to cry at that. " _No_ , Hunk," he moaned, draping himself against the car.

 

"Get inside, buddy," Hunk told him. Keith stepped aside to let Hunk wrestle Lance into the back seat, and went around to open the passenger side door. After Hunk locked Lance into the back of the car, he opened his own door and slid into the driver's seat.

 

"Why does-" Lance hiccuped. "-Keith get to sit up front, Hunk?"

 

"You sound like a toddler," Keith told Lance, smiling with amusement.

 

"Keith," Lance cried, "Don't be mean!"

 

"Keith is sitting up front because he's not drunk," Hunk said, twisting the key. The engine rumbled to life and Hunk began backing out of the parking spot. He drove the car down the dark street and took a turn out of Allura's community, onto the larger road. "He's less likely to puke."

 

"I won't throw up," Lance said stubbornly, "I'm not some- oh, _shiiiit_ , Hunk, my man, I don't feel so great. Urgh."

 

Keith turned in time to see Lance make a face and press his palm against his mouth. He turned back to the dashboard. "Hunk," he said nervously, "I don't think your car is going to get out of his unharmed."

 

"Lance," Hunk said queasily, "I'm supposed to be the one that gets sick a lot."

 

"'M fine," Lance mumbled, still with a hand covering his mouth.

 

"We can take him to my place," Keith suggested, not entirely on board with his own suggestion but at a loss for other options. "It's closer, and Pidge isn't home this weekend." Pidge was his roommate, who was out visiting their family in Indiana. Hunk and Lance's apartment was about twice as far as Keith's was, and Keith did have enough sympathy for Hunk that he would let Lance stay until his stomach problems settled.

 

"You are a godsend, Keith Kogane," Hunk said, relieved.

 

Lance started singing in the back, softly under his breath at first, volume rising with each word. "Estas son las mañanitas que cantaba el ray David. Hay por ser día de tu santo-"

 

"Lance, no, you're Cuban," Hunk said, "And it's no one's birthday."

 

"Joykill, Hunk, you're turning into Keith."

 

"Hey," Keith said threateningly.

 

"It's _truuuee_ ," Lance said. His hand slipped of the seat of the car and Lance almost fell down. He straightened up and said in an obnoxiously teasing voice, "You cramp my style, Keith."

 

"Sorry," Keith said shortly, crossing his arms. He didn't know whether to laugh or be offended, so he chose to remain blank. "I guess I'll stay out of your way."

 

"Nooo, Keith, don't go," Lance moaned. Keith scoffed; did Lance always contradict himself like this, or was this something that was only revealed when he was drunk?"You wound me, Lance," Keith said with a dramatic sigh. Hunk glanced at him, lips twitching up into a smile. "I don't think we can be friends."

 

"No, Keith, I love you! Don't go, you're my friennnd," Lance wailed, resting his head on Keith's seat and grabbing onto Keith's jacket. Keith spluttered, pretty sure that he was turning pink, and that Hunk was laughing at the two of them in his mind.

 

"Fine, fine, fine," Keith muttered, "Let go of me, you asshole."

 

Lance cheered. Then Hunk stopped the car at the red light and Lance promptly fell backwards.

 

Keith laughed into his hand, and Lance got up, hair sticking up and glaring. "Keith!" he said, and his voice was so high-pitched that Keith couldn't help but to burst out into laughter, snorting and probably giggling in a way that definitely didn't uphold his brooding, emo reputation. Hunk was chuckling along with him, while Lance made sounds of protest in the back seat.

 

"This is bullying," Lance complained, "I hate you all. Hunk, you're a traitor. Don't side up with Keith."

 

"Hey, Lance, you know I'd always choose you," Hunk said lightly, "No offense, Keith."

 

"Hella offense, Keith," Lance corrected, and then burst into peals of drunken laughter himself. Keith thought that he might have actually seen Lance wipe away tears of mirth from his eyes.

 

"How much vodka was in that juice?" Keith said fervently, while Lance was still cackling like a hyena to himself.

 

"Too much," Hunk answered, with equal vigor. "Lance should be banned from orange juice."

 

"Hunk, you're mean," Lance pouted, "I hadn't known how _meeaan_ you are. I'm going to tell mom."

 

"Your mom loves me," Hunk reminded him, "Also, she'd kill you if she knew that you were drinking."

 

"I think we're here," Hunk stated, turning the car into Keith apartment complex. Luckily for them, Keith only lived on the second floor, so they could stuff Lance into an elevator without too much of a problem.

 

Keith and Hunk got out of the car as the engine died down, and Hunk went to retrieve Lance. Lance was leaning heavily against Hunk, and as he stepped into the harsh light, Kieth realized that he was sweating rather heavily. He made a mental note not to lend Lance any clothes.

 

"Lance, can't you walk straight?" Hunk asked desperately, as he practically dragged Lance down the lobby of Keith's apartment building. The security guard, who was usually dozing off in his old chair, was conveniently awake at this time, and gave the three of them a strange look. Keith didn't bother to explain.

 

"I can't do anything straight," Lance drawled, and then giggled like a twelve year old. "Haha, get that? Nothing straight."

 

"That's my line," Keith argued, while Hunk said simultaneously, "That's _Keith's_ line." He hadn't known anything about Lance's alleged non-straight-ness until now. He hoped that Lance wouldn't wake up tomorrow regretting it, though Keith had no plans in mind to make fun of him for it.

 

"Deal with it, Keith," Lance said, waving his hand around lazily. He managed to almost hit Keith in the face with it. "You can't have everything. I need some indigestion pills or something."

 

"I'm not sure what Keith had in the first place," Hunk said mildly, raising his eyebrows questioningly at Keith. Keith shrugged in response, clearly not knowing more of what was going on than Hunk did. "Get into the elevator, Lance," Hunk said kindly.

 

Lance stumbled into the elevator with Keith and Hunk herding him, and then punched at three different buttons, none of which led to Keith's floor. Keith grabbed his hand before he could send them up to any other floor, or, god forbid, press the emergency alarm.

 

Hunk pushed the button to the second floor, and the elevator lit up and starting moving. Lance kept his eyes trained on the blue numbers with a serious look on his face. 

 

The elevator doors slid open, and Hunk nudged Lance out, through the hall, to Keith's front door. A "Do Not Disturb" sign was hung on the doorknob, a clear sign that the home was inhabited by Pidge and Keith- a.k.a, their friend-group's antisocials.

 

Lance gasped when the door swung open. "Keith! Your house is beautiful! Ugh, my stomach hurts."

 

Keith stared at the living room of his apartment. Two shirts, one belonging to him and one belonging to Pidge, lay on the sofa. There were papers scattered across the tiny excuse for a dining table, and a crumb-filled plate on the counter. The walls were bare of any decoration, save for a certificate that Pidge received a year ago and Keith's still life-turned-abstract painting for his elective art class two years ago. A dying houseplant stood on a crate, abandoned and forgotten. 

 

"Okay," Keith said. 

 

"Let's please get Lance to the bathroom," Hunk begged, clutching onto the back of Lance's jacket. Keith nodded, and Hunk pulled Lance into the tiny, tiny bathroom that he and Pidge shared. It was a cause of many petty arguments before their morning classes.

 

It was just in time, too, because a few moments after, Keith heard retching. He winced and then proceeded to make an excessive amount of noise in the kitchen to block out the sound. He awaited the noise of the toilet flushing.

 

Keith made sure to have a glass of water ready and waiting when Lance came out of the bathroom, sweaty and still leaning against Hunk. He looked marginally better- his face had less of a green undertone, but he was still swaying rather dangerously.

 

"He can't take much alcohol, can he?" Keith asked Hunk, as Lance downed the glass of water.

 

"He really can't," Hunk said.

 

"Are you gunna kick us out, now, Keith?" Lance said, too loftily for someone who just threw up in Keith's _bathroom_. 

 

"No," Keith replied, "Although you're making it very tempting, let me tell you." 

 

Lance scowled.

 

"Hunk, I'll take him to my bedroom," Keith offered, "Can you, uh, clean up a bit. There's a Febreeze by the sink."

 

There was a moment of silence, and then Hunk flushed. "Oh, yeah! Of course. Thanks for helping out, Keith."

 

"No problem." Keith poked Lance in the side and grabbed his arm to lead him down the hall. "Come _on_ , Lance."

 

They went down the dark hallway and turned right into Keith's room. Keith wasn't so proud that he couldn't admit that his room was a bit of a mess- not as much as Pidge's was, but a mess. Clothes were strewn over his bed and chair and he hadn't bothered to make his bed that morning. He flicked on the light's and allowed Lance to wander inside.

 

"I've been to your room before," Lance said, but it sounded more like a question than a statement. 

 

Keith snorted. "Yeah, you have. Many times. Without permission." That wasn't wholly true. Sure, on most days, Lance had no problem with barging into the apartment with food for PIdge and complaints for Keith, but he knew to give the inhabitants of this house at least a fair warning before entering their rooms. And Lance was unexpectedly perceptive, which unfortunately meant that he could often gauge Keith's mood. 

 

For better or for worse, this ability stopped him from barging into Keith's room when Keith wasn't feeling his best.

 

"Get into bed," Keith told him, making sure to sound somewhat threatening. "And take your jacket off, it's going to reek."

 

"Asking me to undress before getting into bed?" Lance asked, giving Keith a lopsided grin, though complying with the instructions and tossing the jacket to the side. "I'd never expect that of you. At least treat me to dinner, first." He was still drunk, awkwardly stumbling over a few of his words.

 

Keith slapped Lance's bare arm, face warm with embarrasment, and he yelped. Keith pushed him down and closer to the middle of the bed, so that Keith could uncomfortably sit at the very edge. "You're too drunk. Don't ever drag me out to something and then get wasted again, I'm not going to help you again."

 

"What did you do?" Lance grumped, "It was mostly Hunk, anyways. You just stood there."

 

"You threw up in my bathroom," Keith said exasperatedly, "And now you're sleeping in my bed."

 

"You offered," Lance replied cheekily.

 

"You're going to have a huge headache tomorrow morning, and I am going to be the loudest ever," Keith said in a flat voice. "And you _know_ that that's a promise."

 

"Whatever," Lance said, "I can take it."

 

"We'll see about that," Keith said.

 

"Bathroom's all cleaned up," Hunk said, coming into the room. "How're you doing, Lance?" 

 

"I'm good," Lance said. "I'll _be_... _hopping_ around like a rabbit tomorrow."

 

"Please don't," Keith told him. "Just don't whine about your hangover, thanks."

 

"Keith, do you want me to stay over, or..." Hunk shifted his weight and twisted his fingers indecisively. "Cuz I'd love to stay, but I have a morning class tomorrow."

 

"Sure, leave me here with the fool," Keith grumbled, while Lance yelped in offense. "Yeah, it's cool, Hunk, I'll take care of him."

 

"I don't need you to take care of me," Lance retorted. Keith ignored him.

 

"Thanks so much, Keith." Hunk looked relieved. "I'll pick him up after class, if you want."

 

"No, I'll take him on the bus, seriously, Hunk, don't worry about it," Keith said, "I can handle him." Okay, so he'd probably end up bickering with Lance and then blowing up the kitchen or something (Keith wasn't _that_ blind to his own flaws), but Hunk was his friend, so it was Keith's duty to relieve him of his valid worries. "We'll be fine."

 

"Ookay," Hunk said dubiously, "Call me if you need anything. Make sure to give Lance plenty of water. _Don't_ blow up the kitchen or something."

 

Hunk knew them both too well. "We won't," Keith promised. "Don't worry about us. I'll text you in the morning, probably."

 

"Okay, okay," Hunk said, leaving the room. "Goodnight, Lance."

 

"G'night," Lance said from where his head was smushed against Keith's pillow. 

 

"Don't get drool on that," Keith warned, as the sound of the door closing rang through the apartment. "I have to sleep on that."

 

Lance nuzzled the pillow even more. "It's so soft, what the fuck."

 

"Lance!" 

 

"What?" Lance asked, looking vaguely irritated. His blue eyes were still a bit hazy, Keith observed, and all he could really do now was sleep off the alcohol. "Turn the light of, dude, my head's swimming."

 

"Do you, I don't know, want to sleep on Pidge's bed or something?" Keith asked, trying to keep his voice level, as he smacked the light switch into the 'off' position. "Aren't you going to be uncomfortable here?"

 

"Why would I?" Lance asked. His voice was traced with sleep, and his eyes were closed. Keith knew enough about body language that he could tell that Lance just wanted to fall asleep.

 

"I mean, if you're fine with it..." Keith shrugged. He'd have thought that Lance would prefer to sleep in the bed of someone who he didn't argue with almost constantly (thought they were friends, at least, Keith was pretty sure), but he didn't mind. Pidge probably wouldn't mind Keith crashing on their bed too much, anyway. 

 

"Nah, I like it here," Lance said, cuddling into Keith's blanket. It would probably smell like sweat and alcohol and Lance, and that thought made Keith's stomach squirm weirdly. "It smells like you."

 

Keith flushed, very thankful for the cover of darkness. Though that wouldn't matter, because Lance was very peacefully lying down without a care in the world. In fact, Keith was pretty sure that Lance had drifted off to sleep within the few seconds of silence. 

 

Keith shook his head, still flustered and blushing what was probably embarrassingly bright shades of red. Before he left, he grabbed a random change of clothes from his chair. It was a problem for another day, he decided, before heading into Pidge's room. Lance was drunk and said stupid things. That was the very reason why Keith _didn't_ drink.

 

Keith had his own incoming headache, tomorrow, anyway. After changing, he flopped down onto Pidge's creaky bed and allowed his mind to not dwell on it and sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this all in a day, which is a new record for "most words I have written in a day". Yay. Go me.
> 
> Side note: the song Lance sings in the car is "Las Mañanitas", a birthday song most commonly sung to people of all genders/ages in Mexico. It is sung in a few other places, too, but in those places, it is usually sung to girls on their 15th birthday. (Source: google and also my friends with knowledge on this subject ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯)
> 
> I hope you enjoyed, and I would appreciate kudos/comments ;)
> 
> Also, if anyone is interested, you can chat with me on my tumblr at kxgayxmx.tumblr.com


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